


Maybe it's the fever talking, but...

by veeagainst



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Humor, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veeagainst/pseuds/veeagainst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a very silly story. You are warned. It is probably best to read Sirius's dialogue aloud.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Maybe it's the fever talking, but...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very silly story. You are warned. It is probably best to read Sirius's dialogue aloud.

            Remus sniffled into his sleeve and turned – lifted, really, given the thickness and size of the book – page 5004 to page 5005 of _Exceptionally Exhausting Arithmancy for the Aspiring Ministry Employee_.  His head felt like it was twice as heavy as normal; his eyes were runny and itchy at the same time; his throat hurt and his body temperature fluctuated between hot and cold every few minutes. 

            “Pud id dowb, Boony,” Sirius moaned from his position facedown on the floor.  A pile of discarded tissues lay beside him.  “Jus pud the stupid book dowb.”

            “Can’t,” Remus said, wiping his nose on his sleeve again.  He really wished that Sirius hadn’t used up all the tissues.  “This test is really important.”

            “James ab Beter aren’d studbing.” 

            “To my knowledge, no one is ‘studbing,’” Remus sniffed, possibly a bit cruelly.  “I am _studying--_ ”

            Sirius gurgled in rage. 

            “Eloquent, Padfoot,” Remus murmured.  “Very eloquent.”  The pounding in his head intensified and he glanced down at Sirius to see if he was being silently hexed.  Sirius’s arms were limp at his sides and his wand was nowhere in sight, so Remus guessed that he was safe.  “If you and James hadn’t destroyed all of Pomfrey’s Pepper-up Potion, all of us would be fine.  But noooo.  You thought you were so--” he paused to wipe his nose again – “so, so, sooo brilliant.”

            “Shud ub.”

            “You said to James, you said, ‘You know, what a great idea, Prongsy old man, let’s destroy all of this potion, that by the way cures all manner of disgusting throat, nose, eye, etc, related diseases, and then,’ you said, ‘and then, we’ll curse all the Slytherins sick and we’ll watch Snivellus’s giant, greasy nose try to cope with it.’  Only, you know what, Padfoot?”

            “Seriously, shud _ub_.”

            “Padfoot, here’s the thing: your curse rebounded onto us.  And you deserve to feel the way you do,” Remus punctuated this with the slam of page 5005 turning over to 5006.  “But I, _I do not_.”  He slammed 5006 over too and coughed so hard that it felt as if his lungs were coming out of his chest.  “I hate this.  I hate you.  I hate everything.”

            “You don’b really hade me, do you?” Sirius asked.  Somehow, his voice had managed to get even more pathetic.  “Do you, Boony?”

            Remus ignored the lurch in his chest and snapped, “Maybe if you stopped calling me ‘Boony’--”

            “Bud you dow I cad talk right,” Sirius moaned.  “You dow by throad huds.  If I said your real dame, I would jusd soud fuddy!”

            Remus snickered.

            “Bemus!”

            The snicker attempted to become a laugh, and the next thing Remus knew, a minor explosion had taken place inside of his nose and, like many unplanned explosions, had not been a controlled blast. 

            Sirius sat up and stared at the book.  “Ewww.  Thads gross.”

            “Shut up,” Remus whimpered, swiping his damp sleeve frantically across his face and the surface of the book.  “Shut up, shut up.”

            “Soddy,” Sirius said miserably.  He held out his arm and shook his sleeve.  “Here.  You’re righd.  You dobe deserb dis.”

            “What are you doing?” Remus asked.  Sirius looked tragic enough that Remus wanted to give him a hug, and maybe lay his head on Sirius’s shoulder, and surreptitiously wipe his nose on Sirius’s robe.  Or neck.  Or hair.  Or all three, in order.  “Sirius, I think I have a fever.”

            “I’b do, do, do soddy, Boony.  Bemus.  Soddy.”  Sirius shook the sleeve again.  “Use ib.  I dow you wad do.”

            Remus stared at him.  The earnest look did not disappear; if anything, it became more pronounced, although that could have been related to the way that Sirius’s eyes were running.  “You want me to wipe my nose on your sleeve?”

            “I’b soddy, Boony.  I dow you hab do dake da Binisdry dest toboddow--”

            Remus held up his hand.  “Honestly, stop talking.  It’s painful to me and I’m not the one doing it.”  He reached out and put a hand to Sirius’s flushed forehead – he was definitely, _definitely_ feverish – and Sirius smiled shakily at him.  “We all have to take the Ministry test tomorrow.”

            “Bud id madders da mobst do you!”

            “We all want Ministry jobs,” Remus said gently.  “So we have to take the entrance exam.  It won’t matter if we do badly.”  He sniffled again and Sirius reached out and wiped his sleeve across Remus’s nose.  “Padfoot—”

            “Led be bake it bedder,” Sirius said stubbornly. 

            “Sirius--”

            “Hodesleeb, Boony.”

            Remus bit his lip and tried not to start laughing again.  “Honestly, Padfoot.  You can do what you like, but _stop talking_.”  He grabbed Sirius’s hand and held it still against his chest before Sirius could try to wipe his nose again.

            “I lub you, Boony,” Sirius said suddenly, a desperate look in his eyes. 

            Remus froze, Sirius’s fingers crushed into a spot somewhere to the right and a bit above his heart.  Sirius swallowed audibly and said, “I lub you and I wad you do be habby ad I dow thad you will be ib you ged a good grade od dis desb ad ged a job ad da Binisdry.”  He took a deep, gurgling breath, and swallowed again.  “God, I hade dis.  How do Muggbles deal wid dis?”

            “Sirius,” Remus said. 

            “Dob’t.  Dob’t day anyding.”  Sirius looked away and frowned.  “Dob’t bruin id jud yed.” 

            “But Sirius--”

            “Whad?”

“Do you really?” Remus asked softly, and Sirius, still looking away, nodded.  “Why tell me now?  And wait, before you start talking, and just… I don’t know… write it down.”

            Sirius raised enormous, watery eyes to Remus and said, “Youb holdbing by had.”

            “Oh, right,” Remus said.  He grinned and let go.  “Now write it down.”

            Sirius tugged a bit of Remus’s parchment to the edge of the desk and wrote furiously for a minute while Remus studied the sharp curve of Sirius’s cheek, the purple circles under his eyes, and the red blotches on his straight, long nose.  He liked the way Sirius looked when he was sick.  Come to that, he liked the way Sirius looked all the time. 

            Sirius handed him the parchment and he read, in Sirius’s horribly blotchy handwriting that was almost as hard to understand as his voice:

            “Wasn’t going to tell you but I think I have a fever, so, yes, there you have it, and now you know, are enlightened, etc.  Know you won’t think differently of me.  But you have to study for the test, I know you won’t say it but you’re scared they won’t take you for any jobs on account of your being a werewolf. And that’s because they’re wankers.  But if you’re ace on your test then maybe it will all work out.  And if they still don’t take you, I’ll personally see to it that they get rabies.”

            Remus set the parchment on the desk and grinned, even though it hurt his throat.  He was distracted from all physical pain by the sharp contraction of his emotional heart.  “I think you’d have to get rabies in order to give them rabies, and you don’t take being sick very well, Padfoot.”

            Sirius looked immensely relieved and opened his mouth to reply, but Remus shook his head and continued, “And maybe this is the fever talking, but I kind of want to snog you right now.”

            Sirius slammed his mouth shut and opened it again.  “Bud--”

            “I mean, if we’re sick, we’re sick, we can’t get any sicker,” Remus said, shrugging.  “Right?”  His nose ran a bit more and he hastily wiped it on his sleeve.  “Yuck, maybe I’m too disgusting to snog right now.”  He wiped it again.  “I hope not.”

            “Whad aboud da test?” Sirius asked, eyes wide. 

            Remus glanced at the book and considered shoving it to the floor – but chances were, it would fall straight through and keep falling until it landed in the kitchens and killed some poor house elf.  “If I don’t get a job at the Ministry because I didn’t kill myself studying for their stupid test, then, who cares.”  He paused, then added, “And now that I’ve said it, I think I almost believe it.”

            Sirius raised his eyebrows.  “If dis is da powder of dove…”

            “The… the what?”

            “Nudding.”  Sirius’s entire face was suddenly as red as his nose.

            “The powder of…”  Remus stopped and grinned.  “I get it.  I understand.  And…”  Despite his throbbing head, he felt lighter than he had in weeks.  “You’re right.”


End file.
